How Sylar Got His Groove Back
by Ivoryshell
Summary: Don't read if you haven't seen season final you won't understand, and major spoilers! My fun take on how Sylar over dominates his mental cell. Sylar and Claire


*** Disclaimer...**

**How Sylar Got his Groove Back**

There laid in the subconscious; abrasions of emotion and thoughts that did not belong to Nathan Petrelli.

Unnatural thoughts and emotions he struggled with daily.

His mother and brother were constant. Both providing condolence and drive to keep him on task, to help him achieve that goal they were all desperate to gain.

They held those constant and equilibrium threads in place holding his world in balance.

Angela and Peter stood at his side their relationship the beacon of truth that proved time could heal all wounds.

They took turns.

Accompanying him to press conferences, of meetings with the president never complaining or refusing the support he needed. They never left his side and for that he was thankful.

Claire was a different matter, Nathan thought bitterly.

She hadn't even come home for Christmas, though he practically begged her to.

Angela admitted she had encouraged Claire to spend the holiday with the Bennetts. Claiming Claire had needed the familiar after such a trying year.

It had been too long since Nathan had seen his daughter, an abrupt and irrational wave of jealousy swept through him at this thought.

He missed Claire.

He wanted to see her, talk to her, kiss her hair, while offering her advice only a father had the right to give.

He had thought they had made such head way in their relationship, especially over certain pass digressions.

Without conscious thought Nathan pulled out his cell and dialed the familiar number.

Three rings and she picked up.

"Hello?'

"Claire." The voice that answered her did not belong to him though it came from his lips. It was deeper silkier, the tone almost sensual.

Nathan doesn't understand searching his mind for a viable explanation.

He almost wonders if she hung up. He strains his ears listing for her on the other end.

Her breathing ragged, uneven. He could even swear he could hear her heart pounding at an alarming rate through the phone line.

"Claire? Sweetheart?" Nathan asks this time sounding like himself.

"Dad?" Claire asks. He hears the hesitation and wonders why she sounds so scared.

"Who else?" He tries to reassure.

They fall into an easy conversation of polite pleasantries that ends much sooner than he likes. Before hanging up he makes an important decision to visit her this week end.

Claire promises to meet him for lunch on Saturday.

The phone goes dead on her end.

After a few minutes of straining his ears against the white noise of the receiver pathetically willing her back, he too hangs up.

Angela walks in and kisses him on the head to tell him what a wonderful son he is. Nathan smiles warmly at her returning the jester with a complement or two.

His attention however is on the crystal desk clock Claire gave him for his birthday.

It was four minutes fast. He didn't particularly know why but this bothered him. He got up from his chair walked over to the clock and adjusted the minute hand. While maneuvering the hand into exact positioning the idea that he had set the clock ahead on purpose nearly a year ago accrued to him. Now, however, he couldn't fathom leaving it that way.

_The careful analog of precision and accuracy must be ensured for proper function. No clog could be left wanting_.

Such an impulsion, proved too much for Nathan to ignore.

Nathan doesn't know why but he doesn't tell either his mother or Peter about his plans to meet Claire.

The irrational want of having her all to him self, crating a censor of doubt of weather or not he should even take the trip at all.

The voice that most certainly did not belong to him told him yes.

Nathan doesn't know why but he listens.

He arrives early to the restaurant. Twenty minutes early.

Claire arrives three minutes and twenty two seconds before their agreed time.

He doesn't realize until the solutions are in his head that he had already mathematically calculated the distance between them and how long it would take for him to reach her.

He gets up from his set and walks to the door. A wide and contagious smile on his face. Then he sees she's not alone.

He hesitates.

Watching as Claire holds hands with a tall dark skinned boy in glasses.

Claire is playfully tugging against the boys hold.

"My father is waiting…." He hears her giggle.

"Just one kiss, Claire." The boy teases back.

She smiles and leans against the boy. Her arms wrap around his neck as she places a small kiss on the boy's lips.

Something breaks inside him.

How dare she flirt so carelessly in front of a restaurant she was meeting _him_ in.

Sylar steps out in to the sun still in Nathan camouflage. He pulls Claire out of the boy's embrace. "Go wait for me inside." He orders in Nathan's voice. No need to scare the poor girl after all.

Claire doesn't argue but she doesn't obey.

"Dad, this is Warn Alex."

" Warn, This is my dad, Nathan Petrelli." Claire introduces them. Sylar tries not to raise a telling eye brow at the boy as he shakes his hand.

Sylar's fist now clenches at his side, he looks at Claire, she smiles at him. He has never seen her so relaxed, he reads the trust in her eyes and understands immediately what he is up against.

Those idiots actually thought they could defeat him like this? They would pay their price, in good and perfect time.

Now, however, a different sort of matter had to be addressed.

"Claire, baby, would you please excuse Warn and my self. I would like a few words with your friend." Sylar said sweetly.

Claire saw only Nathan, she suspects nothing.

"Of chores, Dad." she gave Warn meaningful look, who blushed and tilted his head in a knowing fashion.

Sylar took the boy by his collar and drug him in the alley way besides the restaurant. He almost felt sorry for the lad as he rounded on his prey, knowing this poor fool would take the blunt end of all his laid up anger against Angela, Peter, Matt Parkman, and Noah Bennett, but then the memory of this boy's lips touching his Claire's, the pity was then replaced with rage.

The boy never saw what was coming though he could hardly brag about not feeling it. Sylar had made sure to create the maximum pain in the short window of time he had.

Sylar was reborn all of the frail and obsolete thread of balance connecting him to Nathan snipped away in abandonment.

His very being shifting molding to form one standard simplicity of truth.

It all came back to the cheerleader.

Emile Danko's pep talk had met little to him. Even more vague as he tried unsuccessfully to find that one constant that could hold _Sylar _to himself. Now it all became crystal **Claire**.

She was the light to his darkness, the heroine to his monster.

Slipping into Warn Alex's form Sylar went to met the girl that made it all possible.

As Warn he told her quite persuasively that Nathan had to run along home due to some unexpected business arrangement.

She looked slightly disappointed, before rolling her eyes, leaning over the table and kissing him.

"Well at least I have the rest of the weekend to spend with my favorite guy." She smiled playfully.

Sylar threw his head back and laughed.

This was going to be so much more fun then he could of ever imagined.

"Claire, if we play are cards right, we may have the rest of our lives to spent together." He told her meaning every word.

*** Please reveiw. **


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